


Nipple Thing

by MaxWrite



Series: Kink Bingo 2012-2013 [1]
Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol RPF
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Nipple Play, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-19 00:22:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxWrite/pseuds/MaxWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and Simon explore one of Tom's favorite parts of Simon's body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nipple Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Truth be told, I already tackled this subject in another fandom years ago, but I had to do it again. For Simon. He has adorable little boobies. I kind of love them. A lot. Actually, he's pretty skinny now, so they might have been reduced to mere loose skin at this point. There's a nice bit in _A Fantastic Fear of Everything_ where you can examine them for a while (if you are so inclined), and it doesn't look to me that there's very much fatty tissue there, but they're still adorable.
> 
> Written for [Kink Bingo 2012-13](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org). Kink: nippleplay/tit torture. No torture here, though.

Tom crawls onto the bed and nudges his head underneath Simon's arm. With a grumble, Simon puts the arm around Tom and lets Tom nuzzle his chest.

"I'm getting the impression you want my attention," Simon says without turning his eyes away from his eReader screen.

Tom looks up at him with a grin. "What makes you say that?"

They are both dressed for bed and Simon is leaned back against a couple of pillows, which have been sat upright against the headboard of Tom's bed. He's got his eReader in his free hand and his glasses perched on his nose. This is his nightly ritual; he reads until he's sleepy. Or until Tom interrupts to ravish him. He's nearly ready to drift off now, but he's getting the impression that Tom isn't about to let him.

"Is that a gun in your pocket or do you just have a massive stiffy?" Simon asks.

"The second one. You're cute in your jammies, you know."

"Thanks. High praise indeed coming from a veritable He-Man."

Tom cuddles, burying his face against Simon's chest. He inhales deeply, lets out a low hum as he exhales. He nudges the nipple nearest him with the tip of his nose. Simon shudders.

"You're not going to let me read, are you?" Simon asks.

"Mm-mm," Tom hums as he mouths at the nipple through Simon's t-shirt, even bites it a bit.

The gentle nibbling is at odds with Simon's concentration. They both can't be sustained, and Simon doesn't particularly want to stop Tom, so he lowers the eReader to his lap as his eyelids droop. "Fuck, you know I'm sensitive there," he sighs.

"Mm-hm," Tom hums again, his mouth full of fabric-covered flesh. He massages with his teeth, making a wet spot on Simon's t-shirt.

Simon has noticed Tom's nipple thing before. It started slowly, a few tweaks here and there during sex, and gradually built up until Tom had to suck on one for at least a minute or two each time. He seems completely indifferent to having his own nipples played with, but he loves Simon's; the fact they're so sensitive probably has something to do with that. Simon hasn't bothered asking about it, as it's not really out of the ordinary, but Tom's never before interrupted a completely non-sexual activity to get his nip on, as it were. Now, Simon is curious.

Tom tugs at the nipple with his teeth, not too hard, but hard enough to make Simon react. Simon grunts a bit, feels a rush of blood heading south. "God, what is with you and my tits?" he asks.

Tom's voice rumbles around Simon's nipple, an unintelligible sound or pure arousal. He pulls his mouth away, and with desire in his eyes he pushes up and kisses Simon. He slides a leg over both of Simon's and grinds against Simon's thigh while licking deep inside Simon's mouth.

Simon gets lost in the kiss for a while. He cups Tom's face and kisses back, opens up wide and lets Tom suck his tongue. When he finally pulls his mouth away, he looks at Tom through his now lopsided glasses and breathlessly asks, "What'd I say? Something's triggered the beast in you, what was it?"

"Don't laugh."

"I won't."

Tom shrugs sheepishly. "You called them tits. Apparently I find that incredibly hot."

Simon frowns. He sets his glasses straight again, then opens his mouth to speak but can't think of a thing to say.

"Yeah, I can't explain it, either," Tom says, trying to be helpful.

"I always knew you liked them," Simon finally says. "You always give them extra attention. Which is nice, by the way, thank you."

"They're sweet," Tom breathes, moving down to mouth at Simon's chest again. "And small and cute," he adds. "And so fucking sensitive, god."

"I didn't realize… how _much_ you liked them, though," Simon adds, losing control of his breathing again as Tom gets back to work. Even just the gentle nudging of Tom's mouth and nose through the shirt is enough to make Simon hard. He picks the eReader up off his lap and reaches over to put it on the nightstand without looking. His hand then goes down to tug at his groin. "You keep that up, I'm liable to start lactating."

"Does it bother you?" Tom asks. He's genuinely concerned; he's stopped nuzzling and has raised his head to look at Simon.

"No, feels good when you do that."

"Yeah, but… do _they_ bother you? Does drawing attention to them bother you?"

"Oh. Nah, it's just a bit of extra fat I can't get rid of to save my life."

"I could probably help you with that."

"What, getting rid of them?"

"Yeah. Not that I want to, of course, but if it's something you ever really want to do something about –"

Simon smirks. "Tom, I've seen the sort of workouts you do. No way, forget it. We mere mortals are breakable, remember? Besides, I wasn't being sarcastic before. They're annoying, yeah, but nothing I'm ashamed of."

"That's good to hear. I'm glad you don't mind them 'cause… I really enjoy them."

"I noticed."

Tom goes all shy then. He cuddles close, leaning one shoulder against Simon's pillows. His hand begins finger-walking around on Simon's tummy, his index and middle fingers acting as tiny legs, kicking folds of fabric around when they encounter them. It's like he's trying to work up the courage to move further up Simon's body; Simon can feel the hesitance, the anticipation in him. He's pulled taut like a tightrope, and when his eyes meet Simon's, they're big and puppyish, like he's begging for scraps at the dinner table.

"Oh, stop it, no need to give me the starving-orphan eyes," Simon says. He takes Tom's hand and brings it up to his chest, to one of his pecs, the one without the wet spot. He presses Tom's palm flat, making the hand cup the extra flesh there. Tom gives it a gentle squeeze. "You like that, huh?" Simon asks playfully.

"Yeah," Tom whispers, squeezing again and again. His bicep twitches a bit as though his body is humming with electricity. He licks his lips, bites them as he watches what his hand is doing. Simon checks Tom's crotch; he's still hard. Everything about Tom says he wants to pounce, maybe push Simon's shirt up and go right in to suck, but he's holding back, perhaps trying to be respectful or maybe just not wanting to rush.

Tom massages slowly in circles, drags his palm gently across the nipple, and he watches with his mouth slightly open, too engrossed in what he's doing to remember to close it. His chiseled features, his eagle-like brow, are relaxed as he gently molds the fleshy area like clay. But as relaxed as he looks, there is still that palpable need in him, that thread of desire pulled tight straight through him. The erection that now fully tents his pajama bottoms says more about what's going on inside him than his face does. Not that his face is lying. The fact is he's sort of worshiping, not just wanting. He sits up and leans over, stretching over to reach the nipple on the far side that he's been playing with. He bows his head to graze the breast with his mouth.

Which is all lovely, but something about Tom's reverence is making Simon self-conscious in a way he normally isn't. He's watched by millions at any given time, but he's usually pretty sure no one's having a peek at his tits and thinking naughty things. If anything, they're thinking that he's fairly successful now and can probably afford to have something done about them. Twats point them out; everyone else just ignores them, but Tom adores them, which for some reason is harder to take than criticism.

"You seem tense," Tom whispers. He's raised his eyes to Simon's face to check up on him.

"I'm not tense," Simon whispers back. "I'm…" He isn't sure what to say. Beneath the pleasure he's feeling, there is that troublesome seed of insecurity, but he doesn't necessarily want to talk about it.

"Okay, seriously, what's wrong?" Tom asks when Simon trails off. He's stopped cuddling and rubbing altogether and is watching Simon with concern.

Simon knows one thing for sure: he doesn't back down from challenges, and that's all uncertainty is. A challenge.

He sits up, and so does Tom, who is watching him curiously. He moves the pillows down flat so he can lie on them properly. When he lies down again, Tom remains sitting up, wondering what he's doing. Simon answers Tom's unasked question by slowly raising his t-shirt up to his armpits.

Tom's eyes instantly go down to Simon's exposed chest. Simon watches his face the whole time, takes in every reaction, every dart of the eyes, every time they stop to stare, every time he takes his bottom lip between his teeth to bite it. He makes himself think about the fact that Tom likes looking because there's something there to look at, something that, arguably, shouldn't be there. According to some.

 _Fuck them,_ Simon thinks of those who would judge, and he means it. He's not quite at my-tits-are-fabulous level, but the fact that they give him the opportunity to be defiant makes him like them a little more.

He lets the fabric brush against his nipples as it passes by, sending shocks of pleasure through him. It's the sort of pleasure that makes him want to pull away from it and push toward it at the same time, it's almost too much. He does it again; brings the shirt down over his nipples, brushes it against them, stops just underneath them, then back up again, then down, then up. For a moment, he forgets to watch Tom's reactions and gets lost in his own. He shuts his eyes, breathes softly through his mouth. Not that he's completely forgotten about Tom; the show is for Tom's benefit. He arches his back a bit, pushing his chest up, showing off. He lets Tom see and hear every reaction he has, every quickened breath, every moan.

When he checks on Tom, Tom looks like he doesn't know what to touch first or if he should interrupt at all. He opts to lay his hand on Simon's stomach first, then move it down to cup his hard-on. He massages over top of Simon's pajamas, pressing the heel of his hand up and down along the shaft and alternately fondling Simon's balls. He watches his own hand for a moment, then turns his face back toward Simon's to look into his eyes and give him a soft, beautiful smile.

"You do this by yourself?" Tom asks softly. "Do you play with them when you jerk off?"

"Uh-huh," Simon breathes. He's left the shirt alone and has moved onto gentle pinching with his fingertips. "Letting someone watch is new for me, though."

"How come?"

Simon has to think about that for a moment. He stops pinching.

"If they don't bother you," Tom adds as he continues massaging Simon's cock, "why haven't you let anyone else see what you do with them?"

"Well, I… I have, sort of, just not to this extent. I've let people play with them, you know, normal sex stuff. But no one's ever been as turned on by them as you are, there's never been a reason to include anyone before. When did this start, anyway? How long have you been so keen on them?"

Tom shrugs sheepishly. "Since our first time together."

"That was months ago."

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I thought you'd be offended."

Simon thinks for a moment, then admits, "The attention is making me feel a bit… odd. But it's not bad. Not enough to make me wish you'd stop."

"Odd how?"

"Like, I dunno, I'm hyper-aware of them now." Simon looks down at his chest. He squishes his arms tight to his sides, pushing his breasts up a bit. There isn't much there to push; lying down, he's pretty much flat-chested. "And guys aren't supposed to be proud of their tits. Not that I give a shit about norms, but still."

"You _should_ be proud, they're cute as hell," Tom says. He's staring again, getting off on watching anything Simon does with them.

Simon raises his hands to them and frames them, his index fingers pressing up underneath them while his thumbs point upward into his armpits. "How's that?" he asks, looking up at Tom again with a smirk.

"Nice. Needs more tassels, I think."

"You'll be installing a stripper pole in here next."

Simon relaxes his hands, clasps them across his stomach. Tom's hand has already stilled between his legs; it rests on Simon's groin, gently cupping it. They look at each other. Tom seems to be searching Simon's eyes.

"You know this is about _you_ , not about _them_ , right?" Tom asks.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I don't like them because of what they are. I like them because they're yours. I've never even had a breast thing before. This is the first time I've been so… interested."

Simon grins. "You're worried I might start thinking you only like me for my body?"

"We may very well be opening the floodgates here. If this is okay with you, then I'm going to be paying a lot more attention to, um, them. I just didn't want you to wonder. Ever. I have a thing for _you_. They're just a bonus."

Simon gazes at Tom and says, "You talk pretty."

"I try."

"I suppose I should reward you for being so lovely."

"You know that's not necessary."

But Simon is already sitting up. He pulls his shirt off, chucks it over the side of the bed. He doesn't lie back down this time. Instead he shifts to sit on his hip, leaning on one hand, so he can face Tom. Tom's hand is still nestled between Simon's legs, but all his attention is up at Simon's chest where Simon's small breasts are far more visible now that gravity is pulling them in the right direction.

"There," Simon says. "Now you can see them." He looks at Tom. "What do you think about when you think about them?" Simon asks. "I mean, do you have fantasies?"

Tom thinks, still staring. "Uhhh… I dunno, stuff."

"Tom? My eyes are up here, love."

"Right, sorry." Tom snaps his eyes up to Simon's face and replies, "I think about you… riding me. Or fucking me. And me lying there and getting to watch them sort of… jiggle."

Simon smiles. "We must've done that loads of times."

"What can I say? I'm a simple man."

"Okay, what else?"

"Nothing, really. I just think about touching them, doing anything that makes you feel good. Anything that makes your nipples nice and hard." Tom pauses, takes a breath. His cheeks are turning pink, his skin growing hot and flushed just talking about this. "I think about, well… rubbing my cock on them, smearing pre-come on them, coming on them. And I think about sucking them. Just lying in your arms and sucking on one for a while. No sex, just… sucking."

Tom is sheepish again, as though he thinks his fantasies aren't fantastic enough. The last thing Simon wants is for Tom to be self-conscious.

"Those are perfectly wonderful fantasies," Simon assures him. "Although I am starting to wonder if something might've happened to you in your childhood."

"What, you think my kink comes from some kind of trauma?" Tom asks.

"Not necessarily trauma, but some incident. You did grow up with three sisters, must've seen more than a few frilly undergarments lying around."

Tom chuckles. "Can we not talk about my sisters' bras while I'm touching your cock?" He then clears his throat, searches Simon's eyes, seems to be working up the courage to say something. There is the Tom that exudes confidence; the movie star. And then there is this sweet, shy thing. Simon waits, patient. His free hand goes to rest on Tom's thigh.

Finally Tom quietly asks, "May I touch you?"

Simon looks down at the way Tom's hand is nestled between his legs. "Um…" he says, meeting Tom's eyes again.

"No, not that. I mean your…" Tom's eyes dart down to Simon's chest for a second.

"I know what you meant. You really feel the need to ask permission?"

"Kinda."

"While you're fondling my cock."

"Apparently."

"Why?"

"Because." Tom pulls his hand away. "They're yours and there's some self-consciousness there, even if it is just a tiny bit."

That's sweet, that Tom's being so courteous, not that Simon would expect less from him. "You don't have to ask," Simon tells him. He lies down again, on his back. He reaches out and lays a hand on Tom's upper thigh, close to his groin, brushes his fingers along the hard ridge inside the cotton. Tom settles down on an elbow, pressing it next to Simon's head on the pillow. He raises a knee to spread himself open a bit so Simon can touch him. Again his hand goes to Simon's tummy first, as though working up the courage to go for a boob. Simon has to smile at his hesitance.

"What?" Tom asks, oblivious.

Simon doesn't bother telling him what's funny. Whether Tom is aware of it or not, there's some shyness in him about his kink. Simon doesn't know what that's about, but they can discuss it later, if Tom wants to. For now, Tom clearly wants something else. Simon decides to help him along. He takes the hand on his tummy and moves it up to cup a breast.

"You don't have to ask," he whispers. "But you can if you need to."

Tom says nothing. Instead he leans over and kisses Simon's mouth. Perhaps that's his reply; it does feel a bit like a "thank you".

When the kiss breaks, Tom keeps his face close to Simon's, gazes at him quietly and presses little kisses to his cheek until Simon finally says, "Do you wanna suck my tits or what?"

He'd never claimed to be subtle.

Tom smiles at that. Simon feels Tom's cock pulse against his hand, like the mere mention of the T-word has sent a little extra blood to the area.

"Yeah," Tom whispers. He shifts to lie down with Simon, who rolls onto his side. Tom rests his head on Simon's upper arm and goes right for the closest nipple. He presses his lips to it, kisses it in that worship-y way of his, then licks it. Simon shudders. Tom's eyelids drift shut as he sucks the nipple into his mouth and continues laving it with his tongue. Simon groans almost involuntarily. It's what Simon calls a nipplegasm, that almost-too-much sensation that makes it hard to stay still, makes his body unsure what to do with itself. And this time there's no t-shirt there to protect him; he's getting the full brunt of it.

Tom, too, is aroused by the simple act of sucking. His breathing has quickened. He becomes more enthusiastic, his lips make wet sounds against Simon's skin. They hold each other, gently writhe together, breathe in time with one another, moving together the way they do when they have sex.

When the nipple becomes somewhat numb to the sucking, the almost-too-much feeling lessens. Simon can now be still and quiet, and as he relaxes, so does Tom. He holds Tom in his arms, cradles the back of his head with a hand. He looks down to watch; though Tom is relaxed now, he's still aroused. He's slipped a hand down into his pants and is slowly rubbing himself. Simon strokes his hair. It doesn't seem like Tom is going anywhere soon.

Simon glances longingly over his shoulder, toward the night stand where he left his eReader. He can't twist around enough to see it, but his arm might be able to grab it. He stretches his arm back behind him, feels around and finds what he's looking for. When he looks back down at Tom, it seems Tom hasn't been disturbed at all. His eyes are still closed, his lips still massaging wetly against Simon's skin.

The eReader has since gone into sleep mode. Simon isn't anywhere near sleep mode anymore, so he wakes the device up and continues reading. His hard-on is softening and Tom's sucking has gone from unbearably arousing to actually pretty relaxing. Simon cradles Tom and reads his book and thinks he's probably got a new addition to his nightly ritual.

END


End file.
